


Seeking Solace

by BambooBat



Series: 100 Theme One-shot Challenge [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Affection, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Biting, Cheating, Childhood Friends, Cigarettes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Bites, Mild Smut, Naked Cuddling, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Real Life, Requited Unrequited Love, Scratching, Sleepy Cuddles, Smoking, Surprise Kissing, Surprise Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BambooBat/pseuds/BambooBat
Summary: You've been the main source of comfort over the past few months, so Louis decides it is time to repay the favor.
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson/You
Series: 100 Theme One-shot Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565344
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Seeking Solace

**Author's Note:**

> This is, by far, the shortest of these I've done. It was never going to be long, but considering the others it is kinda pitiful. Don't worry, I have a much longer one I'm editing before posting. It's a bit of a switch-up. Anyway! 
> 
> This is #5 of 100. 
> 
> I'm sorry in advance for the poorly done smut. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this except the plot. I definitely do not own Reader (you), Louis Tomlinson, or Eleanor Calder.

For the past four months, every time there is a free moment, Louis shows up at your door. Most of the time, he messages ahead – _“On the way”_ – but not always. It is not like you really _mind_ , or anything. A heads-up is just appreciated so you can make sure that the place is presentable for visitors.

It starts the week after his sister’s funeral.

Having grown up with him, you have been pretty close to his family. Some of your spare money came from babysitting his sisters, even. You went to his mother’s funeral, too, but stayed in the back so as not to intrude on their grief. It broke your heart seeing the twins.

Seeing them again, bigger and older, at Félicité’s funeral had been jarring. So many deaths in such a short life. It is a wonder that Louis managed to put on a brave face.

Except it is not anymore. You know that mask is held in place only lightly and can easily slip. Behind it is a storm of tumultuous emotions that are as volatile as lava with an even weaker restraint than a volcano. It is easy to set him off.

Which is how you find him not long after the last of the guests have trickled away from the burial site. Again, you have stayed back so as not to interrupt. Now, only you and Louis remain.

It is a little confusing to not see Eleanor, but you assume maybe she could not make it for whatever reason. (Personally, you cannot think of a decent excuse to miss the funeral of your boyfriend’s sister, but maybe you are just old-fashioned.) Still, you are hesitant to leave him alone, so you slowly approach.

When he throws the first chair, you stop. You cannot see his face, but you see the way he is shaking. He keeps his back to you, head down, as he grabs at another chair. The resounding crack it makes as it hits – and shatters – against a tree makes you flinch. Loud noises like that are usually enough to trigger a panic attack, but you still refuse to leave.

It is not until he whirls around in search of more chairs that Louis spots you. His face is contorted in grief and rage, but you still see the boy you fell for in primary school underneath. He frozen when he realized he had an audience, and there is a moment before recognition lights his eyes.

“[Name]?” His voice is hoarse like he has been screaming.

You only smile softly at him. “Hey, Tommo.”

It is not surprising he does not recognize you. Although he only looks a little older, you have changed. The biggest was losing weight, so you are no longer the chubby little girl that followed him around. There are other changes, too, but they are not as readily visible.

Carefully, you pick your way over to him. He does not even try to move away, just silently watching you. Only the muscle twitching in his jaw and the sporadic, rapid blinking betrays his emotions.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, looking at him, your heart full of sympathy. And love.

It is not fair that you still have these feelings coming to light in these circumstances.

Louis goes rigid for a moment, finally looking away. You still see the tears making his eyes shimmer.

“Thanks,” he huffs, barely louder than a whisper.

Before you think better of it and chicken out, you take a deep breath and hold out your arms. As kids, you would do this as an open invitation for him – or his little sisters – to latch on and cling. Physical affection is the best way to comfort someone, as far as you are concerned.

Louis hesitates just long enough to make you regret it and start lowering your arms. Then he is pulling you against him, arms snaking around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

You still are not entirely sure how it goes from that to his routine visits during his free time. For the most part, the two of you spend his visits with him hiding his face and clinging to you for comfort. Sometimes that is all that happens; you fall asleep with him wrapped around you like a boa and wake up to find him gone. Others, he will relinquish his grip on you so that the two of you can watch telly and eat takeaway.

He always leaves before you wake up. Each time it feels like he takes another sliver of your heart with him.

What happens when he leaves with the last shred? You have no idea.

* * *

You are not sure when it becomes more than just comforting. He has been so careful not to cross the boundary from platonic, although he certainly dances around on it. Still, he never wants more than cuddling, conversation, and comfortable silence.

One minute, he is pressed against your back, arm around you to keep you pressed against him. His face is in that dip between your shoulders just below your neck. He has been breathing so slow and steady that you have started to expect him to be asleep.

Something warm and soft presses against your bare skin. It takes a moment to register it is Louis’ lips as he kisses there. You fight the tension that crashes through you like an avalanche. The best you manage is to slow it down. A questioning noise escapes you, but you do not actually say anything. You are afraid to call him out on the kiss, because he might stop. Worse yet, he might _leave_ and never come back. You cannot handle that anymore.

The crush you tried so hard to pack away for good has not only been released over the past couple of months, but also strengthened. You are absolutely pathetic.

Louis is silent after that noise you make. He doesn’t try to pull away and leave, though, so that is a huge relief. A little sigh escapes you as you start to relax again. The kiss isn’t supposed to mean anything.

_Stop getting your damn hopes up, [Name],_ you think angrily.

Just having him close like this will have to be enough.

He doesn’t say anything when he tugs you closer, either. That is not totally unusual. The majority of the time he only loosens his grasp is when one of you needs to use the restroom, or he falls asleep.

When his thumb begins rubbing lightly on your hip, you only squirm a little. It feels nice, but also kind of tickles. A little huff of air shifts your hair.

You are barely paying attention when his hand slowly begins to drift from your hip down across your stomach. His calloused fingers snag the thin, soft material of your threadbare t-shirt, lightly tugging on it so that the hem pulls away and bares part of your hip and side.

A quiet sigh escapes you, eyes drifting shut. If only this was more. If only Louis had noticed you as more than a best mate years ago. If only he loved you back.

Guilt stabs at you, but it is getting easier to ignore. Maybe this would upset Eleanor, but it is innocent. Louis never crosses that line, and as far as you are concerned, he never will. Someday, this will stop; he will not need you anymore. It is in your best interest to not think about that and just focus on the moment.

Instead of tucking under you, Louis’s hand drifts back to where he has inadvertently revealed your skin. He traces a couple spirals there, before his hand stills.

You are so still it almost hurts. Warmth has started to pool in your belly, but you do your best to ignore it. You swallow another questioning noise, because you selfishly do not want him to stop.

When his hand slips under your shirt, your brain short-circuits for a moment. The roughness of his hand on the sensitive skin of your belly makes you shiver. A soft noise escapes the man at your back, one you can’t remember him ever making before. You have no idea what it means.

“Lou…?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hesitant.

A little hum followed by a soft sigh comes from behind you. It tickles the back of your neck. His hadn continues to slide over your stomach, fingers seeming to map out everything. There is a pause when he gets to one of your scars, but he does not yank his hand away in disgust. It just acknowledges the flaw in your skin, almost traces it as if committing this to memory, and moves on.

Your breath hitches when the tips of his fingers brush the underside of your breast, muscles in your stomach jumping as you involuntarily suck in. his hand pauses briefly and you can almost swear you feel him smirking behind you.

What is he doing?

You don’t know, and you don’t really care. In fact, it doesn’t even matter. He’d never cheat on Eleanor, so there is no reason for you to even feel guilty about this.

_Just enjoy it while it lasts_ , you plead with your conscience.

Meanwhile, Louis is busy blocking out his own. A part of him knows he is crossing the line, but he can’t make himself care. You are here; you are always for him. It has been that way for as long as he can remember. No matter what, he could always come to you for help, or even just comfort.

And you never asked for anything in return.

Perhaps that should have clued him in. You were loyal and clearly cared for him a great deal. Even after his fame took off, you made sure to let him know you were still there. Birthday messages, random tags on social media (usually Instagram), and sometimes you’d be at his mum’s when he would drop by.

He isn’t really sure when he realized your feelings for him were not as platonic as he assumed. It had been suspected back when the two of you were in school, but most recently confirmed when you continued this arrangement. Only love explains why you have allowed him to use you as a distraction and comfort for the past few months no matter how sporadic and inconvenient his visits are.

You have done so much for him, that Louis is eager to return the favor. He knows you won’t take monetary contributions, and he respects that. There just isn’t anything else he can think of that would work.

The tiny reactions you have to his touch make him grin. He’s glad you can’t see it, because he knows you would interpret it wrong. And he’s not entirely sure he could properly explain it right now.

When you don’t try to stop his hand, he feels emboldened. Not only does what he has touched so far feel nice under his hand, but he wants to keep going. There are a couple little scars he doesn’t remember you having – then again, he can’t remember the last time he saw you in less than a shirt – and he is curious about any other changes.

You relax whenever his hand stills, as if you don’t anticipate anything else. Maybe you don’t, you’ve never asked him for anything. You haven’t even requested that he provide advanced warning before he shows up.

Louis likes that you are always ready for him. It makes him feel special, even important. That would probably shock a lot of people, but the 27-year-old doesn’t really think too highly of himself. That cockiness that he was known for is mostly just a façade he hides behind. Lately, he just feels tired.

But here, right now, he feels full of energy. It’s like his soul has been electrified, the fog of grief and obligation cannot touch him _here_. You are his safe haven.

It is important that he shows you his appreciation.

He begins to slide his hand across your stomach, keeping his movements deliberate and slow. He is enjoying this far more than his conscience is comfortable with. And yes, maybe he _should_ feel guilty; the second attempt at relationship with Eleanor is quickly being flushed down the drain. Yet, to be perfectly frank, he can’t even begin to care about it.

Maybe getting back with her was a mistake from the beginning. If he is perfectly honest with himself, his life has gone to hell basically ever since. The only positive so far is you.

The softness of your skin, the warmth of your body tucked against him, _this_ is more intimate than anything between the two of them has been in a while. That might be his fault, but he doesn’t care.

He _does_ care about the way your breath hitches as his hand slowly trails up to cup your breast. He _really_ cares about the way your body is arching against him, the way you squirm just a little as he gives a gentle squeeze.

The small noise that escapes you when he gently rolls your nipple between his fingers becomes all-consuming.

He wants to make you feel good. You have done so much for him, he just needs to return the favor. Maybe he will finally stick around in the morning this time.

Not bothering to stop and consider the potential consequences of his actions, he presses another kiss to the base of your neck. The little shiver only encourages him. Still grasping your breast in one hand, he pushes himself up on an elbow so that he has better reach. The next kiss he delivers just behind your ear.

Your back arches as you squirm, a breathy sound of pleasure escaping you. With how close you are, it is no wonder that the tiny bit of squirming rubs against him in a distracting way. He inhales sharply, trying to ignore the way your ass just pressed into his cock.

“L-Louis…”

Your voice distracts him, but he doesn’t pull his hands away. Instead, he presses a gentle kiss to that spot where your neck and shoulder meet. Then, on a whim, he nips gently on the muscle.

The gasp is more than enough of a gift. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest.

Your mind is not working. It is clear that you feel like your whole body is on fire, because of his touch.

What is he doing?

You don’t get a chance to ask, because those rough fingers are gently rolling your nipple again. A gentle tug o one gets an involuntary moan out of you. _Fuck_. Your hips buck just a little, and even though your face is burning, it isn’t too embarrassing when it pulls a shuddery gasp out of the man behind you.

Now it’s your turn to smirk. This must be an incredibly lucid dream, and you’re actually asleep next to him (hopefully not drooling). Because it is a dream, you can do whatever you want.

Which is why you arch your back, pressing your ass back against him. There’s a sharp inhale from next to your ear. With a shiver, you slowly rock your hips while making sure to keep the back of your thighs brushing the tops of his.

A shuddery little groan is your reward.

“Stop that,” Louis growls softly next to your ear. He rolls the earlobe between his teeth.

You bite your lip to trap the whimper inside.

With one more pinching tug, Louis relinquishes your nipple. Your whole body feels like it’s buzzing, muscles jumping as he lightly trails his fingers down our belly. It tickles, making you squirm. Heat and pressure are building low in our belly as the light touches continue to tease you.

When you try to roll your hips again, Louis’s hand grabs you to stop it. A whine of frustration escapes you. A low vibration is the chuckling behind you. .

“So impatient,” Louis teases. The soft breeze tickles the back of your ear.

With a little growl, you try to roll over. Both of his hands are suddenly on your hips, holding you still. He gives you a little squeeze.

“Relax, love.”

You try to peer over your shoulder, incredulous. He’s playing with you, taunting you, and he wants you to _relax_?

There does not need to be light to see his grin.

“Trust me.” He still sounds amused, but there’s a gentleness that you are pretty sure you have never heard before.

Louis smiles when you roll back to face away from him. After a moment, you sigh, all the tension easing from you with the breath. With your muscles relaxed, your body feels extra soft under his hands. He gives your hips another gentle squeeze. An unsteady sigh escapes you, but you do not try to roll back over.

His reasons for refusing that are selfish. If you do, he’ll want to give into the growing urge to kiss you. If that happens, he will get distracted from his major goal right now. He is making _you_ feel better. His pleasure is not important right now; taking care of you is.

He kisses your bare shoulder lightly, enjoying the way such a simple touch makes you shiver. Are you that sensitive to touch, or is it because it is _him_ kissing you? It doesn’t really matter, just a fleeting moment of curiosity.

The way you practically twitch and squirm as he drags his fingers lightly on the skin not hidden by the shirt is plenty distracting from his own thoughts. He lightly traces the waistband of your pants, teasing you mercilessly. A tiny whine escapes you even as you squeeze your thighs together. Louis has to bite his lip to prevent an honest-to-goodness giggle from escaping him.

Have you always been so cute?

The little, breathy moan you make when he slips a couple of fingers under the waistband of your pants is decidedly _not_ cute. It is distracting as all hell, and the nearly overwhelming urge to roll you over and kiss you almost takes over. Almost.

With a slightly unsteady breath of his own, he begins tracing spirals on the sensitive skin. He needs to focus, but he really had not expected you to affect him like this. Not that he has never found you attractive, just that he thought it was better contained.

Louis really just wants to kiss you.

Instead, his hand slips into your shorts, fingers sliding down your thigh as if that has been his goal the entire time. A tiny noise of frustration escapes you as you squirm. He can feel you squeeze your thighs together, and smirks.

For some reason, you forgot about his other arm. It’s jolting when a hand suddenly grasps your breast, but between the gentle squeeze he gives it and the way he swipes a thumb over your nipple, you are effectively reminded.

So when his hand in your shorts slides over to rub against the front of your panties as he also rolls and pinches that nipple, it results in a moan and buck of your hips.

Louis is surprised until he realizes how damp your underwear feels, then he chuckles with it rumbling low in his chest. Getting you this wound up has been fun. He really wants to ask if it is directly related to the fact you clearly have feelings for him beyond friendship, but does not. He knows better, as that will just make you panic.

With one finger he presses against the slip from outside the material, before sliding his finger along it for a couple of inches. A tiny whimper escapes you, so he adds another finger this time, and presses in a little further so the friction will be more noticeable. The tiny gasp indicates this to be true.

Fingers slowly working through the fabric of your panties, he breathes softly against the skin on the back of your neck and enjoys the way it gives you goosebumps. He exhales lightly against the back of your hear and you shiver.

Your whole body is on fire.

The throbbing between your legs grows stronger with each swipe of his fingers. You are afraid to react, because you really do not want to do something that convinces him to stop. You might actually explode if he leaves without helping with any of this.

When you feel his breath on the muscle between your neck and shoulder, your mind short-circuits for a moment. While you struggle to process it, you cannot stop the moan.

You feel a little like you will go insane if you cannot touch him back. This is such a frustrating dream.

The bucking of your hips means your ass presses back against him where he is trying really hard not to respond to your obvious arousal. He is losing the battle, too, as each display makes it harder and harder to remember why he is hesitating in the first place.

He gives your breast a squeeze, kneading at it a little. He remembers how you used to be self-conscious when you hit puberty before the other girls, but he hopes that is no longer the case. Your body is practically perfect. He loves the way your breasts are the perfect size so they just barely fit in his hand, because it makes squishing them even better.

It’s as he leans into breathe next to your ear that you buck your ass back against him. Even as he feels your thighs against his, you are shifting your hips so you also rub against him more.

The added friction tugs a shuddery noise from him.

He stops you from rolling over again, although this time he just grabs you with the hand between your legs.

Now, when he knows you are not going to try again, he slowly presses his lips to your neck even as he slides his fingers under the hem of the panties so he can slip his long, rough fingers between your wet folds, chuckling softly at just how slippery it is already.

A soft cry escapes you as you feel his fingers dip down to your core, stopping just short of touching. When you buck your hips to get that to change, he slides his finger away with a devious laugh.

“Patience, [Nickname],” he teases, voice sounding like it’s just over your shoulder.

His face is still close to your ear. Maybe if he gets a little closer, you can kiss him.

“Stop being such a bloody tease, Lou,” you practically growl with a squirm of your hips.

“Who says I’m only teasin’?” is said from so close you can feel his lips against your ear.

Before he can pull away, or even anticipate your next move, you are twisting your shoulders and hips so you can roll over enough to face him. He looks a little startled, but you immediately push up so your lips are pressed to his.

Louis goes rigid against you. For some reason, he has managed to rationalize everything as being fine as long as he is not kissing you. But now there is no denying it.

He is cheating on Eleanor with you.

Maybe it makes him a shitty person, but he really does not care too much. 

The time it takes for all this to process is long enough that you start to panic and pull away.

He slides his hand over your hip even as he pulls you against him. It ends with your ass in his grasp which he takes full advantage of by giving it a squeeze.

The squeak against his lips that accompanies the startled jump makes him smirk.

However, this is all the invitation you need.

Shifting so you are facing him even more, you press in to deepen the kiss by sliding your fingers along his cheek into his hair. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, so it is his turn to make a soft noise of pleasure.

You slide your other hand down his chest to his stomach, then over to his hip, enjoying the way he tenses up to hide his reaction when you can feel it pressing against your leg. A pleased hum escapes you as you press even closer, taking the chance to provide more friction by sliding your leg against him.

Louis groans softly, hand shifting from your rear to squeeze at your thigh. Words are not necessary for you to understand. A little huff escapes you, but then you are sucking his lower lip in so you can roll it gently with your teeth.

His reaction is to tug you tightly to him so that your bodies are against each other with no space between. You shift your legs so that his cock slips between just enough that you can feel it, especially when you squeeze your thighs together.

This is by far the most realistic lucid dream you have ever had. It’s been really fun, but you want to try and take control of it. Sometimes you can manipulate your lucid dreams, and this one is too enjoyable not to try.

Besides, since it is obviously just a dream, there is no need to feel guilty. Dream Louis obviously will not have a girlfriend, especially if he is initiating this with you.

You are going to thoroughly enjoy this gift that your psyche has presented you with.

When Louis’s lips part a little around the low moan getting squeezed between your legs pulls from somewhere deep, you take the chance to dart your tongue out to lightly, and quickly, tease the tip of his. At the same time, the hand on his hip slides behind so you can drag your nails down his back, only digging in enough to lightly scratch red lines into his skin. He jolts slightly with a soft noise of surprise.

Then your hand is slipping lower to give his ass a squeeze, which startles a laugh out of him. He breaks away slightly so he can look at you, but you are just smiling a rather good imitation of his cheeky grin. He is a little surprised by how pretty you look, lips slightly swollen, pupils blown. It is obvious you have no idea how attractive you are, so this sexiness is just naturally yours.

You cannot really read the expression he give you, but it makes your insides feel all fluttery. It makes you feel both self-conscious and exited. With another, softer squeeze of his bum, your hand returns to his back.

With a little hum, Louis leans back in to capture your lips with his again. Any of that nervous tension melts back out of you. Maybe you should try to seem less enthusiastic. You do not want Dream Louis to realize just how desperate you are. It’s a little silly to worry about in the dream, but here you are.

For his part, Louis is not at all that put off when you seem to hold back a little more. He assumes, correctly, that you thought of something to make you feel insecure, or at least less self-confident. As much as it bothers him that you put yourself down like that, he doesn’t get upset tonight. After all, he plans to make you feel so good you feel like the most appreciated and loved woman on the planet.

So, challenge accepted.

He indulges in kissing you a little longer, because you clearly seem to enjoy it. Since he honestly does, too, he sees no reason not to make you both happy.

Still, with that goal in mind, he pulls away so he can trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. The little noises and squirming is all the encouragement he needs. For a moment, he pauses so he can push himself up on his arm, leaning ever-so-slightly towards you; you instinctively roll back into the mattress so he can lean over you.

The hand you have in his hair scratches up his scalp lazily, before sliding down to his neck even as his lips map their way from yours to your shoulder. He stops to lightly nip at the tight muscle you have there, which makes your whole body shiver under him even as your breath hitches.

He smirks against your skin.

In retaliation, you shift your hips so you can catch him between your thighs again. He freezes, his whole body on fire.

His arm almost give out when you squeeze while rocking forward, pushing him further between your legs. You have to bite your own lip when you feel his cock twitch against your slit through your panties. Both of you shiver when you drop your hips back on the bed.

The playful glare he gives you when he sees the self-satisfied look on your face only makes you giggle softly.

The giggle turns a little breathy when he resumes trailing kisses down from your collarbone. It isn’t until he kisses mere centimeters above your bellybutton that your giggling breaks so you can squirm under him with a soft whine. 

It is really good this is just a dream, or you would be feeling a lot more self-conscious about your middle. It might be relatively toned now, but it has not always been. While faded and barely visible, scars from old stretchmarks still linger in places including your stomach.

But since this is only your imagination, Dream [Name] does not have those scars.

Maybe your unusual self-confidence should have been a red flag of some sort, but you just seem so happy. That is all Louis wants right now, your happiness.

As he continues to kiss his way down your body, Louis pays special attention to where you seem particularly sensitive. Which is pretty much everywhere. That could be fun.

He really needs to just focus on what feels good, feels right.

Which is why he breathes lightly on your hip after a sucking a little when he kissed you on a freckle there.

Your skin erupts into goosebumps, making you shiver and squirm. You start to reach down, because you want him to come back up so you can steal his body heat.

Louis ignores your attempts to catch him with a smirk. Once he can, he nuzzles his face into your inner thigh, enjoying the way your comforting scent is made almost heady with arousal. The whimper makes him shudder. He is grateful being between your legs will hide that a little.

His face so close to your core has your breaths coming in short, light pants. The pounding in your heart is almost a war medley as you raise your hips to help him pull your pants off.

A wave of self-awareness has you scooting back a little so you can sit up. What if—?

There isn’t a chance to finish that anxious fret because you are suddenly aware of the way he is crawling up the bed after you. Clearly humans are a retarded species, because the part of your brain that recognizes the movements of a predator on a primitive level is overruled by arousal.

Your brain immediately focuses on the fact Louis is pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it away somewhere in your room. It feels like time slows down as you drink him in. the changes over the last few years are noticeable, but only in a good way to you. No matter how old he gets, how many tattoos he has, or anything like that, it will never change how you feel. He will always be Louis, and that is enough for you to love him.

Unconditional love feels wonderful and freeing. But when it is unreciprocated, it stings and burns, burrowing deeper into the person’s soul. It can be corrupted into resentment or even obsession; keeping selfless to retain the purity of it is a lot more difficult.

It just boils down to needing Louis to be happy. As long as he is, you are content with any role he gives you in his life. It is a relief not to worry about it.

You love Louis Tomlinson and you always will, whether that’s from a distance or as his haven when he needs to seek solace in your arms.

Your panties being pulled from your hips and down your legs jerks you back to the present. Louis is seemingly focused on what he is doing; once he peels the garment from your ankles, it gets tossed aside as well.

“Lou—”

You are silenced as he trails rough fingers along the sensitive skin on the back of your thighs. After circling the side of your knee, his hands slide back up the outside to your hips. Your breath hitches as you see the way his half-lidded eyes are a darker blue than usual.

You squeak softly when he uses a sudden grip to yank you down so you are more reclined. The new position puts him farther between your legs. Fingers lightly trailing up your sides, he leans in and nuzzles the softest part of your inner thigh with his nose. It feels a little like your skull is being filled with white noise.

There is an almost deafening roar in your ears when you feel his tongue trail along your skin to dip into you just enough to tease. At the noise you make, he chuckles deep in his chest.

As he leans in so he can better trace your inner contours, he peers up at you. Your full breasts are bouncing slightly with the panting breaths you are taking. Cheeks pink, he sees your lashes flutter as your head rolls back. As he takes his time to slide in deep enough, you quiver.

Your thighs tighten around his head when he finally flicks your core with the tip of his tongue.

It feels like your whole body is buzzing even as the throbbing grows stronger. Part of the squeeze with your thighs is involuntary in response to being so aroused. Your nails curl into the bedsheets as you resist the urge to try to grab at him again.

Seconds later you have one hand so you can thread your fingers into his hair. With a strong enough grip it will hurt to yank free, you try to hold him still as your hips buck.

He swirls his tongue around in patterns only he knows. You fingers loosen even as you release a keening noise.

Louis hums softly, pressing closer, shoulders spreading your legs wider for him. After flicking at your clit for a moment while he resituates his weight, he twists his head a little as he leans down. Your grip on his hair becomes almost painful when he outlines your opening before slipping in like he just has to steal a taste.

The pressure is building, muscles tightening in your pelvis until it aches sweetly. You can feel the world separating slightly.

When he slides two fingers into you, the cry out of your mouth is as much pain as pleasure. It hurts for all of a few seconds as the surprise wears off. Then you are relaxing again. Once he feels this, he slowly begins to pump with wrist, sometimes twisting his hand to make his fingers rotate a little. At the same time, he resumes tracing complex designs on your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches, muscles clenching around his fingers in tiny spasms.

He pulls his face from you, but he does not change the thrusting of his fingers. While studying your expression, he adds a third, slowing until you indicate otherwise at the first pained hiss that escapes you. With his calloused thumb, he starts to rub against you even as his other fingers keep thrusting.

“I – That feels – Louis—” You can barely get a coherent thought out, let alone arrange words into a logical sentence.

The pressure builds until it feels like you will either explode, or at the very least spontaneously combust. At this point, you are breathing in short, rapid bursts. It feels like—

You try to give warning, but by the tie you start, it is too late.

The climax bulldozes over you; it almost feels like you have been knocked out of your own body for a couple seconds. All rational thoughts are gone as pleasure crashes through you in waves.

Louis has to wait for your legs to relax around his shoulders, and then even a little longer for your walls to stop clamping down on his fingers. Considering the lazy smile on your face, you are still riding that high. He extracts himself from his position. Ignoring his own rather painful arousal, he goes about the aftermath with cleaning up. He even goes ahead and grabs pajamas for you to change into.

However, when he brings them over, you try to pull him onto you, a couple fingers tucking into his waistband to hook him forward while your other hand slides up along the inside of his leg. With a sharp inhale, nostrils flaring, he jolts back out of reach.

He shakes a finger at you, _tsk-tsk_ ing as he now scoots around the end of the bed. By the time he climbs in enough to help you slip on the pj pants, you are pouting sleepily at him. His smile is affectionate as he slides the soft material up to your waist.

You try to help by lifting your legs, but your knees still feel weak. It makes your face hot, so you are glad it is relatively dark now.

“I want a cigarette when I can feel my legs again,” you mumble as your eyes slip shut.

You miss the look Louis gives you, but not his soft laugh. “Sounds good to me, love.”

It is no surprise when he returns from putting the kettle on for whenever the two of you are ready for it that he finds you curled up on your side. Your breathing is slow and deep, such a sharp contrast to the shallow panting from just a few minutes ago.

It’s when he’s in the bathroom, after the quick, cold shower, that he looks at his phone. The message notification makes guilt start to spread through him.

> Where are you?  
>Well, I love you. Be safe <3

Louis _knows_ he has fucked up. The one thing he told himself he would never do, and he’s done it. For a moment, a hot shower sounds like a good idea; scald away the dirty feeling he has. It’s not all from knowing he has destroyed what he has been trying to rebuild with Eleanor, either. By cheating on her with you, he is fairly certain he is going to lose you, too.

Part of him wants to pretend you will feel flattered, but he knows better. Even if you might, he knows you will mostly feel ill-used and hurt. If you do ever forgive him, the friendship will never be the same.

Louis is fairly sure at this point he should leave, slip out like he always does.

Instead, his feet lead him back into the bedroom and over to where you are sleeping. Seeing the content serenity on your face makes the knot in his stomach move up into his chest. He really needs to leave. If he goes home now, he can take that hot shower and slip into bed. It’s not super late, though, so Eleanor is probably still up. Unless she went out with her friends once she gave up on waiting for a response.

He is tucking the blanket over himself before he knows what happened. After a short pause, he sighs heavily and continues to tug the comforter over the two of you. Then he resumes his original position, pressing up behind you and pulling you into the curve of his body.

As always, you fit perfectly.

Louis hides his face in your hair. The burning in his eyes make shim growl a little in frustration. Hasn’t he shed enough tears?

With a soft noise, you suddenly shift around so you can press even more against him. Your hand comes down to pat gently on his arm, trying to reassure him even in your sleep.

There is no resistance as you slip your fingers between his and pull his hand up so you are basically hugging it to you.

“Love ya, Dream Louis,” you mumble.

To be honest, he does not know which to focus on. This is hardly the first time you have said that you love him. The tone you used is not unlike the other times. In light of recent events, it sounds completely different now. It is hardly healthy to feel butterflies even though his chest is so tight it almost hurts. He swallows hard and closes his eyes.

But you called him a dream. Does this mean you think tonight did not really happen? It certainly explains how forward and outgoing you were. That had honestly surprised him, even if he enjoyed your enthusiasm. However, if you do not think this happened…

How much of an asshole would he be if he just let you continue thinking that? After all, you will never realize what he has done, so you cannot feel betrayed. If he does not tell you, then he cannot break your heart. He just is not sure how much worse it might be if he does _not_ tell you and you end up finding out somehow.

Hating himself, Louis squeezes you tight against him and shifts around until he can press his face against the spot where your shoulders and neck meet. Selfishly, he takes comfort in you like he has been this whole time. After all, he strongly doubts you will want anything to do with him after tomorrow.

Louis slips out hour before you wake up, promising that this is the last mistake he is going to make, he tries not to look too closely at the fact he is more directing that at you than he is thinking about his relationship with Eleanor.

He just really does not want to lose you.


End file.
